Remembrance
by juno57
Summary: A tribute to Lucy Stillman, written on the day she died. Assassin. Templar. Nothing is true, everything is permitted. A memoir of an enigmatic woman that made the game. SPOILER ALERT, this fic has spoilers for the end of Revelations, so be warned. Also, I rated it T for the occasional swear. Be warned, there be feels ahead!


**Hey all! **

**OH THE FEELS!**

**Sigh, as I'm sure you all know, today is the blackest of days for my fellow DesxLucy shippers, and Assassins in general. In an attempt to harness my feels, I wanted to pay a special tribute to a woman in gaming who truly breaks the envelope in her character, and who has proven to be one of the most interesting characters I've "met". Kudos to you Ubisoft, the one who owns everything, except the shattered pieces of my heart :s**

**Without further ado, Remembrance. **

**Requiescat in Pace, Lucy. **

* * *

As her conscious dripped from her softly parted lips, and met the rapidly expanding pool beneath her, time slowed to force her into thinking.

Remembering, really.

Remembering the pain of a lifetime that stretched an eternity away. Pain no longer resonated through her, only the soft rush of the last threads tearing loose, before her mind would join the millions before her in slipping into the dark.

Her mother and father, she remembered them vividly, her life on the farm too was etched deeply into her fleeting memory. The first time she had learned to free run, or wield a hidden blade. All tucked deep in a corner where the darkness would touch last.

She fought the urge to swallow the blood gurgling in her throat, its bubbles spilled out of her mouth and onto the floor.

The numb pain, she recalled also, when ties were cut, and she was thrust into the gaping world, armed only with her own person. No contact with anyone. For the sake of the mission he had said. You should be honoured, he said.

He neglected to mention the ache, the bitterness that would follow. Despite her best efforts to remain sane, remain faithful, she had splintered as warm comforting arms scooped her up from the downward spiral leading to only god knows where. Despite over a decade of instruction and propaganda preaching, she had run from the teaching of the Assassins into the Templar's seemingly idyllic world, ready to ignore any minor problem as it overshadowed the dull ache and dread she felt with the Assassins.

That had all changed after Sixteen. After watching him die, alone, left to run in circles while his brain rot. She hardly winced as he cut the final line, a placid smile gracing his lips. She had promised herself that things could only get better; she'd only need ignore things a little longer.

_Then he arrived. _

Desmond triggered things deep rooted inside her from her childhood days. She remembered her mission, the reason for all of this, but she was in too deep to do anything but lose sleep over it. She tried to remain distant, cold and calculating, like her superiors. However, his deep brown eyes, familiar since she could remember her days on the farm, plunged into her argument, and shattered her resolve.

_She had signed her warrant then and there. _

From the first time she provided comfort, provided solace from his personal hell, she knew she had fucked herself royally. Every day from then on in, she set her jaw, and chanted to herself, trying to convince the truth that it was lie, and she was only forgetting her real mission.

What hurt the most was seeing his face every day. A constant reminder of the past she had left behind, the family, the friends, everything. She would try to ignore his curious glances, trying to keep her head on straight before it fell off.

_And fall it did. _

The night they had broken out, Lucy had seen genuine hope on Desmond's face, a veritable grin as he told her about his eagerness to help her stop the Templars. If only he knew how her stomach churned every time they talked about this, how she felt hands squeezing her throat from inside, wanting to drag it and her heart down to her feet. She tried to occupy herself with emails and other mundane tasks, but her focus was irrevocable fixated on him.

_Always on him._

The night the two had finally sated each other's lust, Lucy had broken down, though waited until Desmond had fallen asleep, out of self-respect. Her sobs, silent as they were, wracked her frame, her hands clawed at her grip around Desmond's arm slung protectively around her waist, completely unaware of the turmoil convulsing beside him. She had looked out the window, and seen her own ruddy-cheeked reflection, her eyes watery and forlorn. She turned away, burying herself in his skin and his smell, trying with every fibre of her being to force her mind to quiet, and enjoy the moment.

_But that never worked, now did it?_

A life is but a string of moments, tied together with our only thread that binds us, the knowledge that one day, we will end, and who truly knows what lies after?

* * *

She remembered that living two lives tore a rift in her, forcing a continual loop of self-loathing and guilt to run its course every waking moment. She remembered the feeling of paranoia slowly creeping up on her, a constant twitch in the back of her mind.

_Close your eyes, feel it in your bones. _

She remembered the last moments, the most vibrant bleeding colours in her mind as she drifted. Her eyes longed to blink, to clear the film building over them, a slow darkness blotching out the corners. She had seen the anticipation mounting on all of their faces as she stood, off to the side, waiting for Desmond to activate the platforms. His agile leaps brought a sad smile to her face as she watched her handiwork. With each step she climbed up to the Apple, her mind pulsed with a thousand thoughts. Questions clouded her judgement, and she hesitated.

_Mistake_

She seemed frozen, her arm extending to reach out, longing to hold Desmond one last time before the end; to feel his tangible righteousness in the hopes of finding clarity. Her mind burned for it, craved some definitive answer to where her loyalties should lie.

_Too late, be still. _

She had known it was coming, felt the eerie chill settle around her shoulders as he turned. Her chest had heaved as the blade slid into her, an absolute punctuation serving to acquaint her with what consequences her choices would have.

The finality of her consciousness fell on his eyes. Locked, fixed on hers, a silent acknowledgement as her inner demons lay exposed to him. She felt it from her very core, every word she had wanted to say to him had been silenced; there was no need. His action had saved her from herself, ending the ceaseless argument that was poisoning her.

He had saved her.

He had saved himself.

As her eyes fell vacant, that solitary thought was the last to be torn from her.

And she finally felt peace.

* * *

_Despite the Shadow, you will always be _

_the Light in my World_


End file.
